


Only the Beginning

by The_Silent_Writer



Series: Entropy [1]
Category: Night at the Museum (Movies)
Genre: Eventual Happy Ending, Friends to Lovers, Gen, M/M, Think Millennia, Very very historical fiction, slow to start
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-01
Updated: 2017-10-02
Packaged: 2019-01-07 21:54:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12241341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Silent_Writer/pseuds/The_Silent_Writer
Summary: Ahkmenrah is a young prince with no one but his caretaker, Amintah, to talk to. That is until one day he meets a boy with hair like gold and eyes like oceans roaming his palace halls.





	1. I

Ahkmenrah was used to the luster and iridescence of gold. It was everywhere he turned. Always. From the lining of scriptures covering the hallowed corridors to the jeweled collars that decorated his chest. He thought he had become desensitized to its miraculous beauty, unlike many of those around him. Unlike his parents. Unlike his brother.

Though that was before he saw a boy – no older than himself – following close behind one of the many woman he had seen around the palace. He watched as the boy shied away from others and clung desperately to the woman’s skirt. When the sun hit the boy’s hair, it glowed with a natural beauty that his home had no chance of emulating.

Ahkmenrah couldn’t stop his heart from fluttering. He was mesmerized.

He dashed from Amintah’s – his caretaker’s – side without a second thought, nearly toppling into the golden boy in his haste.

 “Your Highness!” the woman leading the golden-boy gasped. There was a look in her eyes, one that Ahkmenrah was too naïve to understand.

The boy of his intrigue seemed to understand it well though. He tried to copy the woman and to Ahkmenrah the look on the boy’s face translated to a mixture of fear and something still too foreign for Ahkmenrah to comprehend. The boy’s gaze dropped to the silken-sandstone floor, those enrapturing blue eyes hidden by shaggy blonde bangs.

That blue was like the oceans Ahkmenrah had only ever heard of in stories.

“We’re so very sorry that we were in Your Highness’ way! Please forgive us!” The woman bowed. The boy at her side copied her gesture with fervent enthusiasm.

A mirth-filled laugh bubbled up from Ahkmenrah’s throat. “Please don’t apologize! I’m the one that ran into you, so I should be the one saying ‘I’m sorry’!” Which he did then, copying the bow that he had watched both the boy and the woman – the boy’s mother, he guessed – do.

The woman looked at the young prince for a moment in disbelief, but then she smiled brightly. “Thank you, Your Highness!” There was relief in her voice, but Ahkmenrah couldn’t fathom why. Her smile remained, all the same. “Was there anything Your Highness needed from us?”

Ahkmenrah thought for a moment. He hadn’t _needed_ anything. He had desperately _wanted_ to know who this boy in front of him was, whose smile shined so bright he might as well be looking straight into the sun.

“How is your hair that shade?” he inquired, his curiosity still brimming over. He began reaching forward, wanting to badly to know what the boy’s hair felt like.

The boy jerked back a bit, eyes changing to a look of panic. This worried Ahkmenrah. Had he been rude acting so brashly?

“He gets it from his father, a man from across the sea,” the boy’s mother said. The brightness of her smile dimmed a bit with her confession. She placed a soothing hand on her son’s head. Her fingers ran through his golden locks like fine silk.

Ahkmenrah wished greatly to touch the boy’s hair too.

He nodded. His interest in the boy was growing stronger by the second. Before he had the chance to ask any more questions however, Amintah gently took his hand and told him his lessons had already begun.

He pouted and allowed himself to be lead away. Only a few meters had he traversed before one question in particular became too important to keep at bay.

“WHAT IS YOUR NAME?” he shouted.

The boy and his mother stopped and turned. The boy looked up at her, his bright-blue eyes hoping for consent to answer. When she nodded, he smiled and shouted back, “MY NAME’S CHEVER!”

It was at that moment that Ahkmenrah realized that he _needed_ to know this boy named “Chever”.


	2. II

Nearly a whole lunar cycle had passed since he had met Chever, and not once in that time had Ahkmenrah seen him again. It made him grow restless. Every day he would ask Amintah questions about the mysterious golden-boy, but each question was given the answer of ‘patience, Your Highness’ or ‘your curiosity will be sated in due time, Your Highness’.

It was frustrating for a five-year-old, to say the least.

As the night of the full moon approached, so did a new year of the prince’s life. It was to be celebrated throughout his father’s kingdom. In the palace, extravagant parties would be thrown throughout the day and late into the evening.

He hoped the celebrations would keep his mind away from thoughts of Chever.

 

The morning of his sixth birthday, Ahkmenrah grew fidgety. It was rare for him to be so excited, but he just _knew_ today would be special.

Amintah had remained obstinately silent when he asked what he might receive for gifts, but there was no denying the glint of secrecy in her eyes. If Amintah didn’t want to spoil the surprise, Ahkmenrah’s gift was sure to be amazing.

He woke up early that morning and dashed around his chambers, hoping that his mother and father had left his gift for him while he had been asleep. No such thing happened. Ahkmenrah let out a childish groan and flung himself back onto his bed. There was no hope in returning to Tutu’s realm. The young prince was too excited to sleep and seeing as the sun was beginning to rise, he found no use in it. Instead, he kept himself busy by practicing his script, writing and rewriting characters and sentences until they became second nature.

A short while passed and soon he heard someone enter his rooms.

“AMINTAH!!” he cheered, flying from his books and papyrus to fling himself into the arms of his Auntie. He knew, of course, that she was of no relation to him by blood. But to Ahkmenrah, the bond he held with Amintah rivalled that of his family. (Though he would never dare to tell anyone for fear of disrupting the sensitive balance his family had.)

The older woman wrapped her thin arms around him and he relished in her warmth. “Happy birthday, Your Highness. You’ve grown so much in such a short time.” She smiled down at him, marveling at the young prince.

Ahkmenrah smiled back, hopping slightly on the balls of his feet.

“Is Your Highness expecting something?”

“Amintah!” he whined, “You’ve been so secretive! I’m six years old now! I’ll be a man soon! And you can’t keep secrets from a man!” he chided her playfully, tugging lightly at her skirt.

Amintah laughed, something hearty and full of spirit. “It’s true, someday soon Your Highness will be a man, so you mustn’t pout. Men, especially future kings, never pout!”

“I do not pout!”

“Of course not, Young Prince.” She laughed again, this time much softer, before she knelt down. They saw eye-to-eye this way – as equals – and Ahkmenrah had always appreciated it. She looked at the rising sun outside of Ahkmenrah’s chambers, then looked back to him with a smile in her eyes. “Would Your Highness like to meet his gift now?”

Excitement welled up inside of the young boy. _Meet_? His gift was a living thing? Ahkmenrah nearly squealed with delight. He’d had something or someone other than himself to talk to? He never thought the day would come.

“Yes! Yes, please, Amintah!”

“Alright – but remember: no shouting in the corridors. You wouldn’t want to wake up the Pharaoh or his Queen, would you?”

Ahkmenrah shook his head. He knew better than to upset his father or mother. “… And Kahmunrah? What of my brother?” Ahkmenrah’s body began to itch, like something ominous was crawling under his skin. This happened at times, more often than not when he spoke of his brother.

“His Highness, too, is sleeping still, so be on your best behavior, okay?”

“Okay!” As the discomfort in his body subsided, he found that he could smile again and he followed obediently.

They walked for what seemed like ages to the young prince. His excitement had returned ten-fold and he grew jittery with anticipation.

When they came to the immaculate entrance of the palace; with its tall pillars made from alabaster and the looming statues of guardians, Ahkmenrah knew that his gift lay just beyond.

Amintah stopped him at the top of the long staircase, looking very serious. The young prince’s eyes widened. He was not used to seeing such an expression on his dear Auntie.

“You must promise me, Ahkmenrah, that you will treat this person with as much love and respect as you do your mother and father.”

“And you, Amintah!” Ahkmenrah added.

Her features softened then. “Yes, or me.”

“I promise! I won’t let anything bad happen to them!”

Seemingly mollified with the young prince’s oath, she smiled and motioned towards the bottom of the staircase.

Confused at first as to what or who he should be looking at, he stared out at the expansive desert that his kingdom had made itself at home in. It was something he would never opening admit, but the desert frightened him. It was vast and endless and the tales he had heard from travelers visiting the palace terrified him. But in this same view he could see the River, reflecting the early morning sun like glimmering jewels. It was beautiful and haunting and Ahkmenrah found himself captured by the sight.

Then he looked down, at the base of the staircase.

A lustrous smile pulled hard at Ahkmenrah’s lips. Surely, the gods were not this charitable.

Chever stood at the foot of the marbled stairs, looking timid but just as excited as Ahkmenrah. The boy was standing beside his mother once again, and the young prince swore that Chever looked even more beautiful now than he had when they first met.

With a toothy grin, Ahkmenrah looked up at Amintah for confirmation. He was nearly vibrating out of his skin. The small nod he received was all he needed as he burst into a sprint, running down the staircase like his life depended on it.

“Chever!” he cheered as he reached the base, running smack into the young boy. With a shout from the both of them, they landed in the yielding sand. Ahkmenrah wrapped his arms around Chever, terrified that this was merely a dream that would float away. When thin but very strong arms returned his embrace, Ahkmenrah felt himself melt.

“Good morning, Your Highness,” Chever said, his voice like a melody that the young prince longed to hear forever.

“Call me by my name,” Ahkmenrah whispered, “please.” He pulled away, his eyes misty from all of the raw emotions.

Chever looked up him with those big, sapphire eyes of his; the smile he gave him was sweeter than any dessert the palace could offer. “Good morning, Ahkmenrah!”

On his sixth birthday, Ahkmenrah had been given the best gift he could have ever asked for.

He had been given friendship.


	3. III

Amintah and Haniya, Chever’s mother, left the boys to their own devices for the remainder of the morning.

For Ahkmenrah, this meant showing Chever all of his favorite places in the palace. The entire time they were linked hand-in-hand, their fingers woven together like wisteria. Ahkmenrah craved the contact and Chever didn’t seem to mind, so he took it as his permission. It made the young prince feel giddy.

He showed Chever the Greenhouse, full of verdure from foreign lands and a pond teaming with sleek fish and amphibious life. He showed him the Great Hall, with its cavernous walls, beautifully carved portraits lining each one and at the head stood the golden thrones meant for the Pharaoh and his Queen. He saved his chambers for last, showing Chever everything from his bed, to his scripture practice (though some he quickly hid because of their embarrassingly poetic contents). He even showed him the panoramic view he had of the vast kingdom that laid beyond the palace grounds.

“You should see it at night…” Ahkmenrah said, “It’s amazing.”

The entire time, Chever listened patiently, but only smiled when he noticed Ahkmenrah watching him. This worried the young prince. Perhaps it was rude of him to show off such luxuries? Had he been too bold?

He let go of Chever’s hand, holding his own close to him like it would curse anything it touched.

Chever looked at him with worried eyes. “Is everything alright, Your Highness?”

“Why do you insist on calling me that?” He didn’t like this. Ahkmenrah was used to Amintah and other people around the palace calling him ‘Your Highness’, but Chever was different. Ahkmenrah _wanted_ him to be different.

“Because I’m your—”

“I _asked_ you to call me by my name…”

“I-I’m sorry! I just didn’t want to anger you…”

Ahkmenrah stared at the boy in confusion. “Why would such a trivial thing anger me?”

The face of guilt Chever was wearing had Ahkmenrah regretting the entire issue. Chever could call him anything he wanted, so long as he kept smiling.

“My mother said to always call the Royal Family by their titles. I could get in trouble if I don’t.”

Ahkmenrah nodded. He didn’t understand why anyone would get in trouble over something like the misuse of a title, but he knew very well the fear of knowing you might get in trouble. “Then when it’s only you and me. Call me by my name!”

Chever still looked a tad pale. “And you won’t get mad?”

“Never! I _want_ you to call me by my name!”

The boys stayed quiet for a time, the weight of something they were still too young to truly comprehend hung between them. This was a secret only they knew now. It was exciting, perhaps scary, to say the least.

“… Thank you, Ahkmenrah.” Chever took Ahkmenrah’s hand in his, giving the boy a watery smile.

A heat flushed over the young prince’s face and his heart pounded louder and louder the longer he stayed silent. “Of course, Chever!” he squeaked out after some time, squeezing the thin hand in his own. He wondered why just the mere sight of this boy made him grow flustered. Before he could find an answer, the sound of gurgling interrupted his thoughts.

Chever looked at him with wide eyes and a blush of his own rising to his cheeks.

Ahkmenrah tilted his head inquisitively. “What was that?”

“M-My stomach…”

The young prince panicked. He’d never heard anyone’s stomach make such a noise. “Chever, are you okay? Should I call for the physician? I’ll be right back, I –”

“No! No, I’m alright.”

“But what is wrong with your stomach?”

“I’m…” The boy hesitated. “I’m hungry.”

This perplexed Ahkmenrah. He had heard of hunger before; the Archives told of unpleasant stories about such a thing. But he had thought that famine, plague, and the like had been vanquished when his grandfather assumed the throne. How could a boy no younger than himself have such a distressing sound coming from his stomach? Why did Chever know the pains of hunger when Ahkmenrah sat hear in a palace with an unlimited supply of food?

“Let’s get you something to eat then!” Ahkmenrah decided in an instant.

“N-No! I can’t so something like that!”

The prince took Chever’s hand once more and began to lead him through the long hallways. “Come on, Chever.” He squeezed the hand in his when it started shaking. “It’s okay, I promise.”

Chever gave a minute nod in response, his gaze held fast to the floor.

Ahkmenrah giggled. “Let’s go!” he cheered, taking off down the hall and dragging Chever close behind him.

It caused Chever to burst into laughter, something that Ahkmenrah vowed to make sure he heard every day from then on.

 

The day bled into the evening quickly, the passage of time hardly felt by Ahkmenrah when he had Chever for company. He relished in this fact. Most days the young prince could only feel the monotony that were his days in the palace. Classes upon classes drowned out his mind, all to shape him into a future king. He loved that Chever brought splashes of colour to his otherwise gray life.

As sunset approached, so did the preparations for the gala to be thrown in Ahkmenrah’s honour. Men and women alike scattered around the palace; cleaning and decorating the Great Hall with shimmering tapestries and extravagant lighting.

Chever watched in silence, unaware that every expression of awe and wonder was seen by Ahkmenrah.

The prince, on his behalf, decided that having Chever beside him was all he truly needed. There was no meaning behind wealth and luxury when he finally had what he had been craving for his entire – albeit short – life. Friendship was like air to a drowning Ahkmenrah, and he swore to never take this opportunity for granted.

“What?” Chever asked him, coaxing him out of his reverie.

“Nothing. I’m just… happy. Thank you, Chever.”

The golden-haired boy smiled and reached out to take Ahkmenrah’s hand. “Happy birthday, Ahkmenrah,” he whispered, like it was a secret for only the two of them to share.

“Thank you,” he said again, this time quieter, “Thank you…”

**Author's Note:**

> Hello all. This is something I had started planning out about two years ago now, and I figured I should at least try and make something of it. For those of you who know my handle, I'm very sorry I haven't updated any of my other Climbing Class works. Things are starting to calm down in my life and I'm hoping to start writing again. So with that, I hope you enjoyed and as always,  
> Stay beautiful.


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